


Requests - Pacific Rim, Avengers, Harry Potter and A Discovery of Witches

by TheGREATCatbsy



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pacific Rim (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGREATCatbsy/pseuds/TheGREATCatbsy
Summary: I am an avid writer but my inspiration has been running low - I would love some requests/ideas for the listed fandoms. I can write character studies; drabbles; rated M+ and romances for those fandoms. They can be shipping the characters, or readerXcharacter. If you have an idea that you want to see written - please ping it my way here on the comments. The more details, the better. Tell me who you want, the ship, the genre, any settings/dialogue/prop prompts etc etc. If I think I can do it justice, I will write it!Thanks a bunch in advance!
Comments: 26
Kudos: 10





	1. The Idea

I am an avid writer, in the midst of finishing two novels and I am looking for new challenges. Inspiration is running low so some requests/ideas would be amazing for the listed fandoms I have... I love to write drabbles and shorts and could do with some fun requests!

I can write character studies; drabbles; rated M+ and romances for those fandoms. They can be shipping the characters, or readerXcharacter if preferred.

If you have an idea that you want to see written - please ping it my way on the comments. The more details, the better. Tell me the fandom from my list, the characters you want, the ship, the genre, any settings/dialogue/prop prompts etc etc. If I think I can do it justice, I will write it. I'm pretty quick as well :)

Thanks so much in advance!

**EXAMPLE OF PROMPTS/REQUESTS:**

FANDOM: Pacific Rim  
SHIP: Chuck Hansen X Reader(fem)  
POV: Reader  
DIALOGUE PROMPT: Herc tells her he sees her in the drift, because of Chuck. 'Reckon this is the one good thing I can still do for him.'  
EXTRA INFO/DETAILS YOU WANT IN IT: She's a drift scientist; they worked together briefly in Sydney; she's brown-haired and it's really wavy and always up; she works with Tendo in Hong Kong for the resistance; Chuck lives!


	2. 'You're an idiot.' Drarry, side of Wolfstar - for Slytheringirle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request was...
> 
> Fandom: Harry Potter  
> Ship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin  
> Prompt: Takes place during fifth year Harry is returning from a detention with Umbridge, his bleeding hand wrapped in a handkerchief because the daft doesn’t know a healing spell, when he runs into Draco Malfoy. Draco asks what’s up with his arms and offers to heal it. They then walk out into the fields (it’s nighttime but whatever) and the topic goes from detentions to Voldemort. (Draco kinda has breakfast with the Dark Lord every morning, so he believes Harry) And you can end the fic with an open ending about the rest of the school year, or write time skips about their journey together about it. (Sirius Black lives if you do, okay?)  
> Extra info: Let Harry mention how Wolfstar are disgustingly in love because these two just make my day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for my first request @Slytheringirle - I hope this is ok! I have drabbled it more than perhaps you wanted - but this all came to me so fast in the end.

His hand stung, a humiliating and infuriating reminder of what he had endured another night of at Umbridge’s hands. He knew he should have told Hermione and Ron by now; knew he should have looked up a healing spell; knew he should have told Sirius and Remus. But he couldn’t – it just didn’t seem that simple. Everything around him felt like a rapidly crumbling reality – he had this growing sense that nothing mattered if Voldemort was alive. It was morbid to think on; morbid to stare at his bleeding, painful scrawl, and more morbid still to venture out towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom to clean it.

  
As if the night could get no worse, the door to the bathroom swung open only moments after Harry had stuck his hand under the cold tap and Draco Malfoy appeared, ghost-like in the moonlight.

“Potter, what are you doing here?” He sounded both surprised, and smug. Harry wondered how worth it would be to tell Malfoy the truth – a sick humour could be found in that at least.

Instead he said, “Washing my hands. What’s it look like?”

Malfoy sneered, “Looks like you’re in a girls bathroom – what’s the matter? Moaning Myrtle the only girlfriend you can get?”

Harry kept the tap running over his sore hand, but turned his face, incredulous to Malfoy, “Could say the same to you.”

His logic was undeniable and Malfoy looked stumped for a moment, before he sniffed in his annoyingly pretty, pointy way and he stalked over to the sink. “What’s the matter – burnt yourself with your remedial potions making?”

Harry, on a deep instinct, simply lifted his hand, held it close to Malfoy’s face and said, “Detention with Umbridge.”

His hand was red-raw, still bleeding slightly, and looking nearly blistered. Malfoy stared at it, stunned and perturbed and feeling a strange anger and guilt pool in his gut, before he even noticed it was not just scratches, but words. He could not even speak.

Harry scowled and pulled his hand away, embarrassed, “Probably your idea of a fun night in the dungeons. Daddy get you one of these for Christmas?” His tone was cruel and pointed; a deliberate arrow of warfare.

Malfoy, for whatever reason, did not even flinch – or take the bait. He just kept staring at Harry’s hand, now hanging limp at his side, before he took out his hand and muttered, so fast and quietly, that Harry didn’t even have a chance to react or deflect whatever hex was coming his way. He had just grabbed his own wand from his pocket when his hand twitched – a cooling sense soothing it – and he pulled it up to his face, saw Malfoy flush a deep red, and realised he had healed it.

There was a long, awkward silence, until Harry finally croaked, “Thanks.”

“My father doesn’t torture me Potter.” Was Malfoy’s curt reply. His face, still pink, was pinched looking and Harry felt a sliver of shame, and suspicion.

“No, I suppose that’s Voldemort’s job.” It slipped out harshly; Harry’s weariness and wariness muddling into something combative still. He knew Ron would approve – never trust Malfoy.

Malfoy flinched away and said, “I wouldn’t know.” He yanked his own sleeve up, showing a clean, glisteningly pale forearm, “He’s not my boss.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but he bit out, “Not yet?”

Malfoy shoved his wand in his pocket angrily and hissed, “You think you know everything Potter don’t you? Always think you’re the only good guy – the only hero.” He scowled furiously, took a step forward and poked Harry hard in the chest, “You’re an idiot.” And then he turned on his heel and stalked out.

Harry was dumbfounded and knew that this strange turn of Malfoy’s was because of his hand. He also knew Hermione would tell him that Malfoy, like Snape, couldn’t be all bad. He knew Ron would disagree. He knew Sirius would disagree; he knew Remus wouldn’t. In that moment he caught a glimpse of why Hermione and Ron could be such a good couple – as evenly balanced as Sirius and Remus and with the same level of disgustingly obvious chemistry. He waited only a moment longer before he followed Malfoy out the door and began to run the length of the hallway to catch him. Malfoy turned to see who it was; but carried on walking until Harry skidded around him and halted him in tracks.

“Sorry,” he said shortly, fixing his eyes on Malfoy’s narrowed gray ones, noticing – not for the first time – that there was something Veela-like about him. He waved his hand up awkwardly, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable with the Veela comparison and his growing tendency to find boys as attractive as girls, “and thanks.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows show up this time and he gazed at Harry’s hand and back to his face, “Surprised you haven’t run off to Dumbledore about it.” His voice was snippy, but not too aggressive or cruel. It sounded, Harry nearly laughed, more like the voice that Remus used with Sirius when he was being ‘over-dramatic and absurd.’

He didn’t manage to keep a grin from his face at the thought of his Godfather and Lupin’s relationship, briefly wondering if his father had thought it as entertaining as he did, “Everyone thinks Dumbledore and I are nutters now though.”

Malfoy’s lips even quirked up at that, “Yes I suppose they do.” He brushed at his shoulder dismissively, his voice nearly teasing as he continued, “I’ve always thought that too. The Dark Lord’s reappearance makes no different.”

“I could get that on record, as proof.” Harry teased back, wondering at what point Malfoy had decided to not be the biggest, prettiest jerk on the planet and why his hands were suddenly so sweaty.

Malfoy eyed him beadily, “I’m not giving you a private interview Potter.”

Harry did laugh this time, surprising them both, “Don’t want everyone to know you’re a good guy too?” He hadn’t really meant it – had he? – though Malfoy’s morality had always seemed more grey, lead to black, anyway. But a ‘good guy’ just because he’d healed his hand? Ron would be boiling over by now.

Malfoy’s face changed so fast that Harry couldn’t almost track it – he managed to look stunned, annoyed, pleased and suddenly nonchalant in less than 10 seconds. Harry had to blink to reset himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want to be seen fraternising with Potty Potter.” He smirked widely then, his lips quirked slightly to the left – why was Harry looking at his mouth to notice that? – only faltering as Harry stared, green eyes fixed on his face. He flushed again, this time, Harry noted with a strained, strange swallow, down his neck.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy hissed, embarrassed and strangely overwhelmed by Harry’s intense expression and the way his unfairly and inordinately beautiful eyes traced him, “Have you lost the plot completely now?”

Harry flushed this time and he stumbled to say anything; had Malfoy put a spell on him when he healed him? Or was he too tired? He didn’t want to even entertain any other option – like how he might have just thought about kissing Malfoy – and managed to mutter, “G’night,” like some sort-of troll might grunt out it’s first words. He turned on his heel and had to talk himself down from running away and sticking his whole head under a cool tap.

Malfoy watched him go, flustered and perplexed, and – he would only admit to himself much later on in the early hours when he couldn’t sleep – a little aroused.

  
That turned out to the first of many interactions they had the rest of that year; though Malfoy had no idea how Harry had been furtively, and embarrassingly, using the map to deliberately ‘bump’ into him on Malfoy’s prefect patrol nights.

Almost 6 months later, at last, Harry kissed him.

Sirius, though horrified at his choice in men, would have been proud.


	3. 'One entity' Light Gwen/Arthur with focus on foursome friendship from 'Merlin' for Aslansdaughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> REQUEST INFO:  
> Fandom: Merlin  
> Ship: Arwen, but mostly a focus on the brotp of the Gwen and Merlin as servants/ Morgana and Gwen as besties/ Arthur and Merlin as a full coin/Arthur and Morgana as unofficially official royal siblings/ Merlin and Morgana and powerful defenders of magic  
> Details: If you can, can you write a Good!Morgana and Merlin being epic together? With a side of Protective Arthur!Knows? And Gwen being a badass even without magic (though there is canonical implications that she might have magic? that's up to you). I just want these four to be good and happy and badass together,, they were such a formidable friendship and force for good and that was so fun. Maybe some decent Arwen, while keeping Merlin and Gwen as an epic brotp?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Aslansdaughter my summary:  
> So here I really focussed in on Gwen – more drabble style and more introspective than narrative with these ideas – on the idea of them being ‘formidable’ as a foursome and the idea of them ‘epic’ together. I felt this sense come on really quickly of the elements and magical beliefs in elements being important for this… I hope this a long the lines of what you might like!

*  
The first time Gwen had seen her three dearest friends, although it seemed surreal still that Arthur was a _friend_ , she could recall noticing their eyes first – it was a habit she had for all people, but with those three there was something in them that she nearly immediately memorised.

  
Merlin’s eyes were obvious – a touch like his ears really, she thought fondly – to look at. They were so rounded and owlish and oddly comical in a way. Looking at Merlin’s eyes was like looking at a completely uncovered patch of sky; something freeing and joyful in that azure, an airiness that could be light and gentle and so trustworthy and essential. Like breathing. But, as with the sky, they could become dangerous, darken and shift in tones and Gwen felt in her very core that his eyes were his magic – that his magic could be a soft breeze or a hurricane. It summarised him perfectly, really, she thought, for he was powerful of course, but his hurricanes could just as well be a muddled, harmless chaos from his often misjudged good deeds or his loyalty to Arthur. His sky held Arthur’s sun; his air was Arthur’s source of fire.

  
And although Arthur’s eyes were blue too; not too dissimilar in shade even; they burned in a way Merlin’s rarely did. Looking at Arthur was like looking directly into the sun or a lightning storm – she found it hard, increasingly hard as her feelings grew, to look at him for long. He constantly _blazed_ – his eyes never hid anything; they were too bright, too intense, too potent. It was a gaze of a King, she could admit that, and a gaze – she secretly hoped and imagined – of a _lover_ , that could sear over her skin and into her very soul.

  
Morgana’s eyes were like water; a gentle rainfall, or an ocean, or – in her most unstable times – like staring into the ominous depths of a well. There was something in Morgana’s eyes that could disturb Gwen; make her feel a twist of fear in her gut that this woman, this beautiful young woman, held within her a body of power that could cascade over and flood the earth and drown them all. Her eyes were the blue-green of summer waters; they held all the promise of laughter and grasped so deeply at something new and different. They, like Merlin’s magic, were potent – but perilously so. Power was not something Gwen wished on Morgana; not something, if she were honest, she would trust Morgana with alone.

  
Gwen wondered, occasionally, if the reason they were so close– such a force as a foursome and in their switching and changing of pairs – because they were so balanced, so protective and so diverse to one another that they could only complement and only succeed as one entity. She thought often of Gaius’ teachings to her once of the elements – the belief, and founding force of magic even, that fire, air, water and earth made all things and shaped all things and could only together be wholly true and mighty. Her own eyes were brown; muddy even perhaps – a warm soil where people grew and blossomed in her gaze; where she shone and offered her love from. She could stabilise them with a sharp look; develop their trembles into earthquakes or help cover their troubles.

  
Air, Fire, Water, Earth: the four of them. Her heart swelled as she finally made her way to the stables – where they were waiting for her for a ride – the four of them could defeat any evil, build a new world, love so hard and so powerfully that she knew they could shape the world like the elements they represented. She paused under the arch, watching Merlin teasingly dance around Arthur, eyes light and pure, watched him laugh breezily and joyfully. Arthur was simmering, eyes lit with mirth and his usual fond annoyance, his golden hair glowing in the sunlight, like the tips of a flame. And then Morgana, calm and soft, her wave of lustrous dark hair smooth around her shoulders, her body swaying in time with Merlin’s absurd performance. Gwen watched them and moved closer and in that magnetic pull to each of them; just as she had the first time she saw their eyes, she knew they felt it too – she knew, in her heart, they all felt her love.


	4. “That information costs Potter.” Drarry prompt work for Shannon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request/prompt from Shannon:  
> if you’re still taking requests could you do a drarry one where draco’s house sets on fire so he goes to live with harry for a bit but they fall in love so harry asks him to live there permanently and he like passionately kisses him 
> 
> So, I have turned this into an older piece - imagining them post-Hogwarts and with a divergence from canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request/prompt from Shannon:  
> if you’re still taking requests could you do a drarry one where draco’s house sets on fire so he goes to live with harry for a bit but they fall in love so harry asks him to live there permanently and he like passionately kisses him 
> 
> @Shannon, thanks again for the prompt! I have turned this into an older piece - imagining them post-Hogwarts and with a divergence from canon, with a pre-established friendship/working relationship and mutual attractions. I hope this is ok! X

*

“You’re late Malfoy. What happened, your peacock get loose and you ran out of Sleakeasys?” A distinct whiff of smoke accompanied Malfoy’s arrival in his hearth; but not the familiar whiff of Floo Powder residue, and Harry looked through the cloud, realising as it cleared that something was wrong.

Not only was Malfoy late – which was unheard of – but he looked a mess. He regretted his joke instantly and stood up from his desk, just as Malfoy stepped fully from the fireplace and revealed himself. His hair was not slicked back; his robes were in disarray and there were patches of his robes that were singed. He looked almost sooty even.

“What happened?”

“My flat caught fire.” Malfoy’s answer was as nonchalant as such a response could be, but the way he slumped in Harry’s armchair by the door gave a lot away that he would not do verbally.

“What happened?” Harry repeated, his voice still tinged with concern. But there was a hardness there now, a wariness. He knew instinctively that this was not an accident.

Malfoy looked up at him, eyes cool, but his face was tight and nearly anxious. “I’m not sure. I received what I thought was a howler: red envelope, unrecognisable and untraceable handwriting and ink. I planned to put it straight into the fire, but the moment I touched it…” he ducked his head for a brief moment and lifted an arm. One of his hands was wrapped heavily in bandages. “It was as if,” he paused and shot Harry an unreadable look, “it was as if it was fiendfyre. It wouldn’t go out with any spells from my wand, but the minute Pansy came out and cast a spell it was reduced to ash.”

Harry froze for a moment and then leaned back against his desk and stared. “How’s your hand?”

Malfoy’s face was incredulous, “My hand? That’s what you want to know about? I’ve just told you that I think I was sent a fiendfyre howler.”

Harry nodded, thoughtful, “You’ll need somewhere to stay.” Then he repeated, “How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine; blistered but healing. I can stay in a hotel Potter, but that’s not the point is it?” Malfoy’s voice was sharp and probing; his anxiety was beginning to best him and Harry’s introspective expression was making it worse. He could tell he was worried.

Harry looked back at him carefully; saw the flash of dark panic in the blond’s eyes, saw the beginning of his pinched, stressed expression begin, saw the way his hands shook and he strode over, crouched in front of him and said very gently, “I think you should stay with me until we work this out. Where are the remains; were any left?”

Malfoy stared at Harry’s suggestion, at how casually he had phrased it and didn’t even, in his surprise, comprehend his two questions tagged on at the end.

Harry remained crouched in front of him, face patient and his emerald eyes gently flickering across Malfoy’s face. He waited quietly and eventually placed a hand on Malfoy’s knee. “Are you ok?” he frowned slightly, “Maybe we should take you back to St Mungos?”

Maybe they should, Malfoy thought to himself, his heart seemed to be suddenly pummelling in his chest and skipping beats and his hands were sweaty, his cheeks felt warm and his mouth was dry. These symptoms – a panic attack perhaps? – only worsened when Harry’s hand began to rub softly on his knee and he leaned in closer, his beautiful eyes wider in worry.

“Draco?” The use of his first name, a rarity from Harry, startled him enough for him to croak out, “I’m fine.”

Harry nodded slightly and stood up and, to his embarrassment, Malfoy’s ‘symptoms’ stopped the moment he moved away. This was not the time, he thought crossly, to be reminded of his growing attraction to Harry damn Potter. Or, he thought with his usual cunning, maybe it was – hadn’t he said he could stay with him? Pansy would call that the ‘opportune moment’…

*

Later that evening, after several semi-awkward reminders from Harry that Malfoy could stay with him and several increasingly coy and suggestive responses from a ever-growing bolder Malfoy, they arrived via Floo into Harry’s apartment.

It was grotesquely Gryffindor: red, gold, cosy and filled with photos and mess.

Harry had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “A lot of the stuff is Ron’s – he’s messy.”

Malfoy crinkled his nose at the mention of Harry’s best friend/inbred puppy (the latter half of that description being Malfoy’s version) and asked, “Is he here?”

Harry grinned at the wariness in Malfoy’s tone and pulled his coat off, “No. He’s mostly at Luna’s these days.”

Malfoy’s nose-crinkle shifted into a confused frown, “Lovegood? Not Granger’s?”

He watched Harry mindlessly chuck his satchel and shoes into a corner by a kitchen counter and nearly snorted, until Harry turned around, looking surprised. “You didn’t hear? Hermione and Ron broke up,” he opened his fridge and pulled out two butterbeers before sitting at the counter and shoving one towards Malfoy.

The blond’s eyebrows shot up, but he slid his own coat and shoes off, stored them in the rack and coat hanger – both empty – by the door and strode over. He sat carefully at the counter and asked, “Why?”

Harry looked surprised at his interest but answered with a shrug, “Too different in the end.” He took a swig of his butterbeer and eyed Malfoy thoughtfully, “Why do you ask?”

Malfoy grinned, took a slow slug of the beer and said, “I know someone who would be very interested to know Granger is single again.”

“Who?” Harry demanded, a mixture of curious, protective and surprised.

Malfoy laughed, “That information costs Potter.” His eyes twinkled and he rested his forearms on the counter between them, leaning in just at touch. This could take an interesting turn, he thought.

Harry’s curiosity, and attraction to Malfoy, both grew and he grinned wolfishly back, “What does it cost?”

“What is it worth to you?” Malfoy quipped back immediately.

Harry laughed throatily, making Malfoy smirk and lean forward again, “Depends on the answer. If you’re going to tell me that Goyle has a secret thing for her, or that Flint does, I don’t want to know.”

Malfoy’s smirk widened, “And what if it was Zabini?”

The mention of Blaise Zabini, one of Hermione’s colleagues and ‘one of the most eligible bachelors’ in the Wizarding World according to Witch Weekly, didn’t really surprise Harry. Hermione had complained about him for the first few months of her new job; then started dropping his name into conversation; then started calling him by his first name and had even, only a month ago, bought him a birthday gift. “Well that would be worth a lot.” He leaned forward too, his hand brushing the side of Malfoy’s unbandaged one.“What’s the price?”

Malfoy’s skin tingled where Harry’s hand touched his and he could barely contain a blush, inwardly cursing his paleness when Harry’s eyes flickered to his cheeks and seemed to both light up and darken at once, “What are you willing to pay?”

It took Harry only a moment to lean forward suddenly, his hand sliding up Malfoy’s forearm and kiss Malfoy hard on the mouth.

He pulled away almost as quickly as he had moved in, but Malfoy heard himself murmur, eyes still slightly closed, “Don’t be cheap on me Potter, I’ve had a rough day.”

Harry grinned, stood up and moved around to Malfoy, making the other man open his eyes as he waited. Harry moved in closer, sliding one around his pale neck and the other onto his knee, travelling slowly up his thigh as he edged in. “Don’t worry Draco,” his voice was low and teasing and his next words sounded like a delectable promise to Malfoy, “I’ll make sure you get your money’s worth out of me.”

And then he leaned in, kissed Malfoy hard again, then soft – his mouth slanted sensually over Malfoy’s, his lips firm and wanton and his hand still sliding up Malfoy’s thigh, and then he opened his mouth, his tongue sliding against Malfoy’s and making the blond groan in pleasure. Harry pulled away just slightly, mouth hovering teasingly, and Malfoy growled, “That’s not quite enough Harry,” and his own, uninjured hand fisted into Harry’s shirt and tugged him in again.


	5. “We hope, Mr Malfoy, that you and Miss Granger will be able to pilot her together.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @VioletsEyes prompt was:  
> Harry Potter world in a Pacific Rim au. Hermione and Ron were drift partners when a Kaiju attack leaves Ron unable to pilot anymore or dead. Hermione needs a new partner. Is whoever you want. I think a Dramione would be interesting, Harmony would be epic or possibly if you are feeling a rare pair Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger! Krumione!  
> Okay I just really want a Pacific Rim Harry Potter AU with Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @VioletsEyes for the prompt... I end up running with it loosely as if it were becoming a longer piece!
> 
> I hope you like it.

“Come in Red Blade, come in…”

Those words seemed to be on repeat somehow; a fuzzy, panicked sound echoing around Hermione’s skull. She felt sluggish, as if waking up from a long sleep, and shifted slightly – a sloshing sound accompanying the movement. She was cold; aching and the more alert she became the more she felt the searing pain in her left side and arm and the painful thudding of her head.

“Red – are you still with us? Rangers – please respond! Evac is coming in. Repeat – evac is coming in. Stay with us.”

The sloshing sound grew louder as Hermione shifted again and she was hit with another wave of damp cold - strong enough to alarm her from her stupor. She opened her eyes and sat up, swearing at the pain in her whole left side and then again as her eyes adjusted to the bright light. She was inside the jaeger’s helmet still but slouched far back from her piloting station in a pool of water. The water had flooded much of the helmet and was at least to her knees when she pulled herself painfully to her feet. “Ron?” she called out groggily to her co-pilot and friend, casting her blurred vision around, “Ron?”

“I’ve got something!” the crackled fuzzy sound called back, and Hermione seemed to come to in full – she launched herself at the radio loop dangling from her drift helmet.

“I’m here,” she croaked into it, wincing at the pain again and nearly wheezing at the effort to hold herself up, “I’m here. I can’t find Ron. We’re flooding.” She dropped the loop, unable to stand anymore and in the splash saw a movement to her far left. A boot.

She dragged herself through the water, fear and panic twisting in her stomach, “Please don’t be dead.” She whispered as she grabbed hold of the boot, pulling it and its attached leg closer. A prone body, Ron’s, floated towards her and Hermione pulled again, nearly crying in relief when she saw Ron’s helmet was on and looked undamaged.

“Ron!” Hermione pulled herself to her knees and cradled Ron’s head to her, releasing the helmet’s clasps and shoving her hand against Ron’s neck pulse. She waited, ducked her ear to Ron’s mouth to see if he was breathing. It seemed an age until she felt breath and a pulse and she nearly sobbed then, before pulling herself up again to try and check over Ron’s body. His left arm was limp and leg twisted at an odd angle – both seemed broken and Hermione realised her pain was leftover from the drift and she touched a hand to Ron’s left side, expecting to see a pierced side or some damage to her suit. There was none; so she touched a hand to her own side and was surprised to see blood on it when she pulled it away again.

“Red Blade, evac choppers are above; can you get loose? Repeat: can you get loose from the helmet?”

Hermione was still staring at the blood on her hand when the comms buzzed again. It was closer this time; the loop in Ron’s helmet still worked. She grabbed at it, her side twinging again and the water seemed bloodier around them, “I’m here. Ron’s unconscious but with strong pulse and breath; left arm and leg seem broken. I can pull him to the surface of helmet visor.”

“Copy that Ranger. Medics on chopper for you both.”

Hermione nodded, still not consciously taking in everything, still not thinking back to how this had happened, to their injuries, and forced herself to her feet. Her side wound seeped, sharp pain – like needles – reverberating up and down her ribs. Her upper left side was weak, nearly useless, so she stepped over Ron and looped her right arm under her co-pilot’s shoulders and hauled his weight against her. She lost balance immediately, the weight too much, and smashed into the side of the helmet, her shoulder cracking against the metal painfully. She swore, the pain, exhaustion and panic threatening to overwhelm her. Hermione grit her teeth; she simply wouldn’t let it. She pushed herself forward, leaning Ron against her back and heaved him forwards towards the helmet’s cracked visor. Some of the cords from their comms board hung against it; she ignored them, ignored the pull to remember the fight, for now, and rolled Ron’s limp body against the glass, careful to not let Ron’s face touch it. His armoured suit protected the rest of him.

A breath of fresh air hit her as she leaned against the visor. The light marbled by the hulking shadows of the choppers looming over them ready to help with recovery; the sound of the sea and the choppers all buzzing above. One was coming lower; an unravel of rope, and Hermione glanced away from it – daring a look at her Jaeger. They were clearly lying down in the ocean – shallow enough to not have flooded their cracked helmet completely – and she suddenly realised she had walked them this far, on her own, when Ron lost consciousness. She must have been thrown from her pad when she, and Red Blade, collapsed.

*

The rest of the evac seemed to go in a blur – though Hermione knew that this was likely the blood loss and shock impacting her wits. She had apparently lost consciousness again when they strapped her into the haul rope.

By the time she woke up, it was nearly two days later and she was patched up enough to get out of her ward to see Ron. Before that, she was visited by the PPDC Marshall, Kingsley Shackleton. He assured her Ron was fine – broken left limbs, as expected, but healing well and conscious before she had been.

She had only met the man twice before, in his visits to the Auckland base, and always thought him courteous, if apathetic.

This time, he was invested in her – in the events. It was he who recounted the tale to her.

The Kaiju – codenamed: Lobster – had nearly been dispatched quickly. She and Ron had been doing a clean and efficient job on the Category 3. What had been the problem was the sudden appearance of a Category 4 – codenamed: Arrowback. How much Hermione could remember was supplemented easily by the Marshall’s knowledge. Lobster had been sliced in half with their blade. Arrowback took two hits with the cannon and seemed to retreat; until it didn’t. It reappeared and nearly tore off Red’s left arm, using the arrows on its back and tail to take out her left knee and smash through the helmet. Ron took a hit to the head with the angle of their fall; knocked unconscious and leaving Hermione alone to force their second sword through Arrowback’s deadly bite.

“You defeated a Category 4, with two limbs out of action, no co-pilot, and managed to walk your Jaeger nearly back to shore.” Shackleton’s summary was concise. He seemed a touch impressed but that barely mattered to Hermione.

“What are you doing here?” was all she managed to mumble out, not intending it to sound as rude as it did. The Drs had told her the neural strain of piloting solo would take its toll on her for a few more days and that she would struggle to think and articulate as fluently. The thought that it might take longer, or be permanent, terrified her more than the Kaiju’s had.

Shackleton gave her an even look, “Funding is being pulled.” He was speaking with no emotion in his voice, but his dark eyes betrayed his anger, “All Jaeger’s are being shut down. The walls being prioritised and completed in their place.”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the news. “Idiots.” She grumbled, again not her usual eloquent self, before struggling to sit up and attempt to stretch.

“Yes.” He answered, then – his voice strict and a hand reaching out but not touching her – “Stop. You need to stay still and _rest_. After that, we could use you.”

She stared at him dumbly. Everything hurt so much that she was struggling to focus and keep up with him.

“For the Resistance.” He explained, “I have 8 months before all funding is gone – and I plan to use those 8 months to destroy the Breach once and for all. I could use you in that team.”

Hermione swallowed and glanced away, “I can’t pilot yet and neither can Ron.” The DRs had told her this fairly quickly after she was lucid enough to understand.

He was looking at her steadily, and then seemed to hesitate over his next words, making her uneasy, “Ranger Weasley has refused the offer – or rather, his family and surgeons did and he eventually acquiesced. But you,” he looked her over, “only 2 other pilots have survived solo battling and piloting. You have an impressive record. And we need all the help we can get.”

Hermione stared down at her body, encased in the hospital bedding, and felt a numbness – that they could be shut down, so easily disregarded for a wall – _a bloody wall_ – to replace them? As if those walls would hold Kaiju back and protect people? She looked back at the Marshall and nodded once. “I’ll help. As soon as I can.” She waved her hand loosely over her currently prone, healing form.

He smiled tightly, relieved and relaxing a touch as a result, “We’ll fly you out as soon we can. For now, rest well.”

She nodded and took the hand he held out; letting him shake it gently. He turned quickly from the room and hovered at the door, “Thank you Hermione.”

She gave him a small smile, which he returned, before silently leaving the room.

*

Hermione knew Ron both did and didn’t want to join her. She knew Ron so well now that the smallest facials tics could be a giveaway. Sometimes, they couldn’t read each other; sometimes it was still like everyone else… Not today though. Today Ron’s longing to be back in a jaeger with her – to battle – was at odds with his relief that he wouldn’t have to risk death again; leave his family again.

“I’m sorry,” Ron hugged her hard with his free, right arm, eyes glistening with tears. They both knew this could be the last time they saw each other – that Hermione might not make it back.

“Love you,” Hermione whispered, “We’ll skype.”

“Don’t do anything too dumb without me Hermione.” Ron grinned, “But do try to save the world…And maybe do _someone_ there.”

Hermione rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile, “I am hoping to save the world more than hoping to hook up Ronald.” He was always on at her to date more. She rolled her eyes again as he laughed, but said nothing as the Marshall approached her and asked, “Ready?”

She nodded and turned to Ron again, “Stay safe.”

They exchanged a last look that said it all – almost as if they were back in the drift feeling their bond, before she turned and headed to the helicopter, not wanting to linger as the Marshall shook Ron’s hand.

He joined her on the chopper shortly after and said very little, until they were only an hour away, where he talked through the Resistance plan and the rest of the team. He had managed to gather more people and resources than she expected, which was a relief. She knew many of the names; not necessarily having met them, but because they were leaders in their fields… or survivors.

When they finally arrived, the lead Jaeger engineer Harry Potter was already there. Hermione had met Harry a few times before and got along well with him - Harry was a quiet, sharp and focussed man. Hermione had liked and understood his intensity completely – his parents had been Drift partners and held the record for kaiju kills before their deaths when he was only an infant. She too had lost her parents in the Sydney attack; though her parents had been visiting at a dental conference and killed in the city’s destruction. He held two umbrellas, waiting to shield them from the storm, and a kind smile.

They walked her through the compound; she briefly met the lead Bio-Engineer and kaiju expert Dr Luna Lovegood – a strange, intense but brilliant woman – and Neville Longbottom, the Loccent manager. He seemed pleased, and relieved, to have her on board, which made her feel more welcome – though she felt lost, uncertain, without Ron at her side, and without Red coming with her. She still wasn’t really sure she what _she_ was doing there yet.

As they reached the Shatterdome, Harry and Marshall pointed out each of the Jaegers, taking her to each one and their pilots. Viktor and Fleur Krum– the Bulgarian and French couple stood proud but welcoming by their jaeger Beau Alpha. They asked politely after her injuries and Ron, but did not pry. She was led to the triplets next – Crimson Typhoon’s 3 arm team – who were excited to meet her; having heard she had piloted the only other stealth model.

Following them were the Lupin’s, who she knew fairly well already, having worked alongside them occasionally in the pacific stretch connecting Auckland and Sydney. Remus came straight over to see her and extended a hand, “Good to have you here Hermione – sorry about Red and Ron.”

She smiled softly, “Me too,” and she gave Sirius a short wave over Remus’ shoulder as he approached. Sirius Black was an acquired taste, but they got along well enough. Mostly because he thought she was an ‘alright pilot’ - which Hermione knew really meant he thought she was damn good - and because his juvenile cockiness amused, rather than aggravated, her.

“So, Hermione, what are you going to do here without a jaeger?” Sirius’ first question was brutal, but fair, and at least more kind in tone than he could have been, and perhaps would have been to anyone else. Remus shot him a cross look which Sirius completely ignored.

Hermione looked to the Marshall, “I guess I don’t know yet?”

Her ignorance, but arrival here nonetheless, made both the Lupin’s eyebrows shoot up, although only Sirius looked confused. She gathered from Remus’ expression that _he_ knew what she was doing there and the sandy-haired man said, “I think you have something to see then.”

Shackleton gave her an unreadable look, “Are you ready?”

Hermione looked back at him, then shot a quick glance at Remus, who smiled encouragingly, and she asked uncertainly, “For what?”

“For your jaeger.” The Marshall turned away and left her no choice but to follow.

Hermione turned a stunned face to the Lupin’s and heard Sirius ask his husband what the Marshall meant as she trailed after him.

“What do you mean? I thought you couldn’t get Red repaired in time.”

“I couldn’t,” he coolly responded, nodding Harry back over, who joined them with a blond and scruffy-looking but very attractive man in tow. Hermione tried not to notice how absurdly handsome he was, with wide grey-blue eyes, light stubble decorating a square jaw, and an almost boyish delicateness to his face, and she smiled as nonchalantly as she could manage when he arrived.

“Hermione Granger,” Marshall nodded at her then at the man, “Draco Malfoy.”

Draco stuck his hand out and she briefly noticed it was smeared with dried grease in places, and when he wrapped it around hers, it was warm but calloused. Her entire body seemed to _tingle_ at his touch and her eyes met his briefly with surprise. He looked back at her intently.

She knew his name but tried hard not to show it, for his story was a sad one. He was the Anchorage pilot – although he hadn’t been a pilot for a few years now from what she knew– who had lost his father, still attached in the drift during his death. She couldn’t imagine the agony of it.

“Nice to meet you,” Draco’s voice was low and somewhat gravelly and as appealing as he was.

“You too,” Hermione managed to say, feeling her cheeks pink and she withdrew her hand as quick as she could and looked back to the Marshall, unsure as to why Malfoy was here and wondering where this was going.

“Well, Mr Potter – lead the way.”

Harry nodded once at the Marshall’s instruction and lead them towards Beau Alpha, taking a sudden left turn just behind it and leading them to another loading bay... where there was another jaeger waiting.

“Dragon,” Draco breathed out from behind her, and he moved in closer – his face and voice writ with both reverence and grief. “What is she doing here?”

Harry smiled proudly, “She is remade – we have updated her modelling and she’s ready for you.” His green eyes empathetic on Draco, but they flickered to Hermione briefly.

Draco stared at the jaeger and moved in closer still, straining his neck to gaze up at her more fully.

Hermione felt out-of-place again – it was so hard to be there without Ron. She looked at the Marshall once more, confused, and he coughed ever so quietly and pointedly – it was enough to get Draco’s attention.

“We hope, Mr Malfoy, that you and Miss Granger will be able to pilot her together.”

They immediately looked at each other and Hermione was sure she looked more surprised than he did – perhaps Harry had told him? Perhaps he had put 2 + 2 together quicker than she had… His eyes on her were almost studious, and intent again, and she had to look away.

“Marshall,” she started, a touch unsure, “how can we pilot together? We have no training; no history of drift connection… I’ve never even been in another jaeger, let alone a _Mark 3_.” Her voice became louder and nearly cross the more she thought about it. How could he expect her to pilot with Malfoy – a stranger, in a different jaeger, just like that?

“Harry has a training programme to trial you both, and some other potential recruits, but,” he paused and shot them both an unreadable and pointed look, and Hermione felt Draco’s eyes briefly on her again, “you are 2 of only 3 pilots to have solo-piloted and survived. That takes something special… and to me, suggests that you two will have excellent drift compatibility.”

Draco’s eyes were back on her and she felt magnetised to look back. He looked surprised, a touch impressed perhaps, and curious. She looked away quickly, her stomach churning and heart hammering. She did _not_ want to drift with him; her body was too easily reacting to him – Ron would be cackling at how obvious her new-crush was already – but she couldn’t tell the Marshall that. Maybe, she hoped, they wouldn’t be drift compatible. She felt guilty immediately that she would rather keep her own embarrassing secret than save the whole world.

“Mr Potter, please show Rangers Malfoy and Granger to their rooms.” And with that, the Marshall gave them both a polite nod of dismissal and turned away, meeting Remus and Sirius at the Shatterdome bay entrance and striding purposefully off with them.

*

Hermione and Draco both let Harry do much of the talking – in part because they needed the tour and the information of what was where and in part because they both felt adrift, almost a little nervous of the other and the whole circumstance. When Harry pointed out their rooms – opposite one another’s, Hermione noted with another lurch in her gut – he bid them both to get ‘unpacked and comfortable’ and told them he would collect them for dinner later.

They stood awkwardly in the corridor as she left, until Draco asked softly, “You ok?”

Hermione looked at him in surprise and she was a touch moved by the softness in his beautiful eyes, “Yeah,” she was as nonchalant as she could force herself to be, “are you?”

He eyed her carefully and then shrugged, “It’s weird being here – I haven’t piloted in years. I guess I don’t know what it’s like out there anymore.” His honesty stunned her. She hadn’t expected him to be so open, particularly after witnessing what she could only describe as a ‘swagger’ in the way he walked and recalling interviews in her mind as they walked round where he had been more arrogant and combative than Sirius. Now, he was looking at her with such focussed eyes, so raw, that she found herself softly smiling at him, almost feeling lightheaded.

“It hasn’t changed much. Kaiju are getting a bit bigger; we’re getting lower and lower on numbers and now,” she dropped her head, overwhelmed by this absurd reality, “this is the last shot.” She sighed, shrugged and made herself look right at him, “We’ll just have to see how it goes – I mean, it _has_ to work.”

“You mean this?” he motioned between them, his eyes a little darker, almost mischievous even. He moved a touch closer to her, tilting his head and body towards her as if evaluating her and his lips quirked up.

She flushed under his gaze and forced a laugh, “I mean all of it.” She could barely look at him and she was getting cross with herself. She hadn’t fancied someone so rapidly, so intensely, for a very long time. It wasn’t fair that it would be someone she was meant to pilot with – someone who, she realised suddenly, would know and _feel_ it if they locked in the drift. She stepped away from him, already embarrassed at the mere thought, and turned to her room, jabbing her hand awkwardly at her door, “I’m going to unpack. I’ll catch you later.”

She practically barrelled through the door and nearly slammed it shut, not quite missing his bemused grin and his polite, “Yeah, sure.”

When she had shut her dorm door, she pressed her forehead against the cool steel and swore. How could this happen now? How, when she was meant to be part of the last effort to save the world, could she possibly be partnered with the one guy she apparently could NOT stop fancying within a matter of minutes?

She swore again and shook herself, pulling away from the door to start unpacking her luggage, hissing to herself, “If you can fight kaiju Hermione, you can handle anything.”


	6. EDITS TO THIS

Dear all,

Many thanks for requests and prompts so far.

Please note I have now edited the fandoms and removed 'Merlin' and 'Charlie's Angel's from this - in part because I don't know 'Merlin' well enough to do some of the requests.

Please keep prompts/requests coming for Harry Potter, The Avengers, Pacific Rim or The Discovery of Witches though.

x


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